


Why is chuckles enjoying himself so much?

by schrijverr



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Gen, gun - Freeform, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:40:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25017919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schrijverr/pseuds/schrijverr
Summary: A moment of defiance of a dying man.
Kudos: 2





	Why is chuckles enjoying himself so much?

**Author's Note:**

> You can also find this work on my tumblr, which is @schrijverr as well. Hope you pop in and say hi, cause i'd love to talk to you!

I kneel on the ground, the asphalt is hard beneath my knees and the streetlights flickers in the night. It is dark and it is raining. Thick droplets splatter on my face that I have tilted towards the sky with my eyes closed.

I cannot see him, but I can sense his movements. He’s standing in front of me, his silhouette obstructing the lamp and blocking out the last bit of light that filtered through my eyelids. I know he’s looking down, staring onto my lax face.

I knew this was coming, I knew I couldn’t run. This is just where I end and I accept that. There is no need for me to beg or plead, I of all people should know he will not listen. So, I sit there and I wait for him to make his move.

He grabs my chin, but I don’t open my eyes.

I don’t look.

I feel like if I look, I lose.

I don’t want to lose, despite the fact that I already have. This is a game of power and I’m not losing it. My eyes stay close, even when I feel the cold barrel rest against my temple. It’s okay, I tell myself, it’s okay that this is it. I did my part, I rolled the dice of life, this is just my outcome and I knew it was a possibility.

I swallow and take a deep breath. The human in me wants to plead, but I don’t want the last thing I see to be his smug grin and his stupid hat and his stupid long dark coat.

It’s over for me, nothing left to do.

I let my shoulders relax and I await my faith. I don’t expect to hear the bang and I’m not sure I’ll have time to feel the pain. Briefly, I wonder if there’s a heaven waiting for me when all this is over. I assume there isn’t and if there is, I won’t be going there. Yet, I find comfort in the thought of the possibility. I chuckle to myself, a dying atheist still tries to pray himself into the kingdom to come in his final moments.

He doesn’t seem to appreciate my good mood, he lets me know by jerking my chin around and barking out his question of why chuckles over here is enjoying himself so much?

I fight his grip to turn my head to the side questioningly, eyes still closed. I muse it over for a second, then decide that it will be more fun to leave him a little mystery. A moment that he will never forget and a question he will take to his grave: why was chuckles enjoying himself so much?

I guess he’ll never know.

It pleases me that despite the obvious lack of power I hold, I still have some sort of control over the situation. I can decide to not look, I can decide to smile and I can decide to ruin his favourite part by doing so. My grin broadens.

I sense his frown, the annoyance radiating off of him. I take in an extra deep breath, just to bask in it for a moment. Then I cock my brow as if to ask, well, what are you waiting for? You have a trigger, going to pull it anytime soon? Are you going to stop chuckles from enjoying himself so much?

He wants to say something, maybe ask me to beg or just ask me why I’m still smiling, but he doesn’t. A man of his, how shall I phrase this, his, his standing knows a power game when it’s being played. I’m winning and opening his mouth would be to admit defeat. Admit defeat to a man on his knees. I bite my cheek to keep from laughing, but the moment of joy is over as soon as it began. He seems to have figured out that the fastest way of winning is by pulling the trigger. 

Even I can’t say I win from that, although I was correct. I didn’t hear the bang and I didn’t feel the pain. If I could, I would feel a small sense of satisfaction knowing that I was right and that I am a mess for him to clean up.

It’s sad my corpse can’t tell him that.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and Comments are always appreciated, so thank you for leaving any if you did!
> 
> I'm just facinated by the small moments we miss, small mysteries that people never solve.


End file.
